


Love and Other Dangers

by ava_jamison



Category: Batman - Fandom, Catwoman - All Media Types, Catwoman - Fandom, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Caper Fic, Case Fic, Espionage, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_jamison/pseuds/ava_jamison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When rogue diamonds go missing, Agent Faraday turns up in Gotham, seeking ~assistance~ from Catwoman. This does not go over well with Batman. Or Matches Malone. Or Bruce Wayne, come to think of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Other Dangers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chipsnopotatoes](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chipsnopotatoes).



> Thank you, Sistermagpie!

**Thursday, November 19, 1981  
Wayne Manor: 0140 hours **

Balancing his tray carefully, Alfred navigated the stairs down into the Batcave, cup rattling softly on its saucer with each echoing step. As he made his way toward Bruce, the scent of coffee threaded through the cool, damp air.

“Thanks, Alfred.” Bruce said, pulling on a boot. “Not decaf, is it?”

“Oh no, sir.” He put the tray down. “Obviously as soon as you decided to go out on patrol, I made regular.”

“It’s been three and a half weeks, cooped up—”

“It’s a shame gunshots don’t heal more rapidly than they do.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “And I’m not going on patrol.”

“But you are going out as Batman.”

“I have to, Alfred.”

“Master Dick has been doing a perfectly acceptable job of seeing to things in your stead.”

“This is personal.”

“Dick did well enough to find out where Faraday’s staying,” Alfred said, pouring coffee.

“And now I’m going to pay a call. Man can’t just show up in my city and commandeer _my_ things—” Bruce took the cup Alfred handed him. “He monkeyed with the Batsignal!”

Alfred raised his shoulder an inch in a very reserved shrug. “It did get your attention.”

“Does he think he can play by his own rules in my city?”

Alfred didn’t answer, and Bruce gulped a too hot swallow of coffee. His eyes watered, but he played it cool and kept talking, pulling on his cowl. “Batman’s got to set him straight.”

“I see.”

Bruce didn’t appreciate the tone or the raised eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“I can certainly see why it’s worth sabotaging your recuperation.”

“I’m not sabotaging any _recuperation_ by going out for an hour, and I’m not sabotaging my _reputation_ by sitting around while Faraday does whatever he’s trying to do in my city.”

“So,” Alfred said slowly, giving Bruce a long, steady look. “Is this what they call a pissing contest?”

Bruce glared at him. “It’s Gotham,” he said, strapping on his utility belt. “And she’s mine.”

 

***

 

**Apartment leased to Kathy Whippe: 2 a.m.**

Selina answered her phone on the second ring, still half-dressed in purple.

“It’s Weasel,” the voice on the other end of the line said.

“This better be good, Weasel.”

“Somebody’s looking for you. Ran into him down by the docks.”

“Who?”

“Goes by the name Faraday.”

“Really?” She pulled off a boot. “What’s he want?”

“Something about a job.”

“That shipment come in?”

“I think so.”

“He leave a number?”

“No. He said you’d know where to find him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he said to tell you ‘the usual’. Said you’d know what that meant.”

 

***

 

**Gotham Ritz-Carlton: 0220 hours**

Batman took the high rise’s elevator. This time of the morning, nobody else on it. His comlink buzzed. “Robin?”

“Shipment’s checked in, it’s…

“Yes?”

“Is that…” Dick paused. “Elevator music?”

Batman tilted his head to look up at the speaker pumping out “Girl from Ipanema,” and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the polished elevator door. “It is.”

“Oh. Okay, well, glad you’re taking it easy, Batman. Look out for your leg.”

“I’m not taking the elevator all the way up, Robin. Only a shortcut. The shipment?”

“You don’t have to snap,” Dick said, and Bruce could hear the grin in his voice. “Shipment’s all under lock and key at Wayne Labs.”

“All accounted for?”

“Yeah. The diamonds have landed.”

“Any surprises?”

“None except the one you’re dealing with.”

“Nobody else?”

“Nobody feline, if that’s what you mean, and I think it is.”

“I knew she wouldn’t interfere.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

“Too much chatter on the line.”

Dick snorted. “Yeah, okay—”

“Call it a night. Hit the showers.”

The hallway was well-lit but empty as Batman broke into Room 1616, also deserted. From there, he exited by window and was for a moment glad he’d waited this long to get back in action again, because it really wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it might be, swinging out along the side of the building. He just had to make sure he favored his left leg.

That certainty only became more absolute as he rappelled over to 1617. Not the smoothest landing he’d every made, but his boot fall was relatively soundless when he landed on the outdoor balcony. The sliding glass door wasn’t even locked. Idiot.

Even when Bruce opened the door, there was not one telltale sound. Except for the familiar click of a pistol, cocking as a bedside light switched on.

“Faraday,” Batman said to the man pointing a gun at him.

“Batman,” King Faraday said. “Glad you got the message.”

“Hard to miss.”

“I thought so.” Faraday stuck his Beretta in the holster hanging from his headboard. “I’m pretty impressed with myself.”

“Really?”

“Probably don’t get too many non-GPD calls on your own personal beacon. Although it wasn’t too hard to hijack.”

“I must have overlooked a loophole the last time I repaired it,” Batman said. “After throwing the Joker through it.”

“Piece of cake, Batman. You should check out that loophole.”

“Did you call me just to make small talk or you on government business, Agent?”

Faraday grinned. “Didn’t meet me at the docks, though. Just stalking me?”

“I’m not on your schedule.”

“I get it. Batman wants to call the shots. So you follow me to visit my hotel room?”

Behind his cowl, Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

Faraday punched his pillow and leaned back into it. “No ‘how have you been?’”

“Didn’t figure you a man for chitchat, Faraday.”

“You figured right. Forty-eight hours ago, a man was stabbed on the street in Star City. Got his briefcase stolen and two hours later he died in the hospital.” Faraday threaded his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Funny thing was, he had radiation sickness. Radiation sickness, a bus ticket from Gotham and a plane ticket to Moscow.”

“Keep talking.”

“Our contacts tell us something’s on the market, and it’s on the market in Gotham. That guy was just carrying a taste.”

“Taste of what?”

“State secrets, being trotted out to the highest bidder.”

“What kind?”

“A new weapon. Powered by irradiated diamonds.”

“That’s a Wayne Tech project.”

Faraday nodded. “Glad to hear you’re familiar with it.”

“I keep my ear to the ground.”

“The Soviets want it. I’m in town to make sure they don’t get it. Was at the Motel Capri earlier tonight—”

“The Capri Inn on Plymouth. And two men shot in the parking lot with a 9mm.”

“News travels fast.”

“Mind if I examine your gun?”

“Collateral damage, Batman.”

“Don’t try to play God in my city, Faraday.”

“Licensed to kill. I’m sanctioned.”

Batman took a step closer, let his voice drop an octave. “Not by me.”

Faraday shrugged, nonplussed. “At least we got two of them down. Besides, we found something.” He reached for the bourbon on his bedside table. “Drink?”

Batman ignored the offer. “What did you find?”

“Samples. Rogue diamonds.”

“Already irradiated?”

“To extreme levels.” The man poured himself two fingers and knocked them back with a pleased exhale. “I need help, Batman.”

“Why should I give it?”

Faraday grinned. “Oh, not your help.”  
“Whose?”

“Somebody we both know but I can’t seem to catch up with.”

“Keep talking.”

“She doesn’t have a Catsignal I can co-opt.”

Batman’s pulse sped up but he kept his poker face. “Leave her alone.”

“Touchy, touchy, Batman. Last I heard, she’s a free agent.”

“You want her to help you find deadly diamonds?”

“Makes sense to me. She’s a jewel thief. And a pro. She won’t get hurt.”

“I’m supposed to trust a killer?”

“We’re not talking about you.” Faraday poured himself another shot and swirled it in the glass. “Selina knows who I am and what I do. Has for years.” He downed his drink. “Why don’t we let the lady decide for herself?”

“I’m not her messenger service.”

“Tell her she owes me for Geneva.”

“Geneva?” Batman regretted the word as soon as it was out of his mouth.

Faraday smiled. “Good times. She’ll know. Pretended to be married.”

“I have work to do.”

“Sure you do.” Faraday nodded, falling back against the pillows, eyes narrow and calculating, but still with a smile. Bruce didn’t like that smile. “I’ll let you let yourself out, Batman. Tell Catwoman she can come in the same way you did. Be good to see an old friend.”

 

***

 

**Apartment leased to Kathy Whippe: 0410 hrs**

Selina rubbed her eyes and turned on her bedside lamp.

Batman tried not to loom. “Sorry to wake you.”

“You don’t look sorry.”

Batman shrugged.

“Should you even be out yet?” She looked him up and down. “How’s the leg?”

“I’m fine.”

Selina sat up, letting the sheets fall away.

Batman eyed the black silk nightgown, strap slipping from her shoulder. “That’s new.” His voice was just a little rough.

She looked down at herself. “Yeah.” Selina patted the bed next to her. “Take a load off?”

He didn’t move. “I’m working.”

“Okay, tough guy.”

“What happened in Geneva?”

Selina’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Geneva. Faraday.”

“This is why you break into my apartment at four a.m.?”

“I need to know.”

“Why?”

“He’s looking for you.”

“King?”

Batman nodded. “Wants you to do a job for him.”

“Really?” She examined her nails. “Got any more details?”

“I’m not your messenger service.”

Selina smiled. “No kidding.”

“Thought you were going straight, anyway.”

She angled an eyebrow. “I like to keep you guessing.”

His gauntlet clamped against her soft, bare shoulder. “What kind of job did you pull in Geneva?”

“Well,” Selina said, falling back to dodge his grasp. “I’m not in the mood to play Truth or Dare with Batman. How much do you know?”

“Not enough to keep it from happening in Gotham.”

“That’s why?”

“Yes.”

She pushed a wayward strand of long, dark hair back behind her ear. “The only reason?”

“Yes.”

“Uh huh.” She crossed her arms. “Like I said, not really in the mood. This about the diamonds?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Word gets around. Heard they’re hot.”

“Stay away from them.” Now he loomed on purpose. Leaned over her, the air between them weighted with the scent of her sleep-warmed body. “And tell me what I want to know.”

“I’ll show you yours if you’ll show me mine?” She smiled a slow, teasing smile and he felt her breath mingle with his. “You go first.”

“No.”

“Batman, if I didn’t know you better, I’d almost say you’re jealous.”

He snorted.

“Look, it’s almost time to get up. You want to stick around for sunrise?”

“I have a board meeting tomorrow.”

Selina lifted an eyebrow. “You’ll cut down on your drive time if you leave from here.”

Batman tilted his head. “My leg _is_ starting to cramp.”

“You should probably rest it for a few minutes.”

“Just for a minute.”

“That armor’s got to be weighing it down, too.”

His lip quirked. “I think it is.”

“So?”

“So…”

“You going to leave the mask on?”

“Do you want me to?”

 

***

 

**Wayne Enterprises: 0920 hours**

C-Tech on the table, stockholders angry, and Lucius wasn’t back with the report they needed. Bruce stalled for another five minutes, making Tina reread the second half of an IPO. She was just winding up when the feds burst in. “Mr. Wayne?” one half of a duo in dark suits asked, looking around at the board members.

“Here.” Bruce stood as the room began to buzz with whispers.

“Agent Dobbs.” The kid flashed a badge. “National Security Agency. We need you to come with us.”

The kid was no help, but when they finally got to Wayne Tech’s lobby, Bruce saw Lucius. “What happened?” Before Lucius could answer, some other kid in a suit glided forward to stand between Bruce and Lucius. “Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce’s eyes flicked from Lucius to the kid. “Yes”

“We’ve been waiting for you. Right this way.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at the arm the kid extended to point the way. “I’d like to talk to my C.E.O.—”

“Sorry, Mr. Wayne. We have a few questions for you first.”

”This way, please,” Dobbs said and Bruce was now flanked by two men. Both of them, he could tell from the bulges in their coats, were armed. In Wayne Tech. He felt the muscle in his jaw harden.

Lucius shrugged helplessly as the little squadron surrounding Bruce herded him toward a doorway. Two silent types stationed outside the door nodded to the agents as he entered a small, two tiered lab, with a set of metal stairs connecting the levels. The first floor was empty, but voices came from the upper level, then steps clanging on metal. Dr. Morgan Marshall, he realized, as the scientist descended into view slowly, bottom to top, dark shoes, then white lab coat and finally Morgan’s sallow face.

“Mr. Wayne.” Marshall’s mustache trembled as he stuttered a little, taking in the armed guards flanking his employer.

“Marshall.”

The expressionless agent beside Bruce hooked a hand toward the door. “Exit that way, Mr. Marshall—”

“Dr. Marshall,” Bruce corrected him, but the man ignored Bruce.

More footsteps clattered on the stairwell. Two sets of shoes came into view: one male, one decidedly female. Shoes, a pair of dark slacks on the left; heels, shapely legs and a dark pencil skirt on the right. White shirt, tie, jacket on the left, White blouse, great … yeah. Bruce was frowning even before he saw her face. Her hair was pulled back into a tight chignon and she’d donned a ridiculously stereotypical pair of cat's-eye glasses, but Selina’s mouth quirked when she met his gaze.

Next to her, King Faraday nodded. “Mr. Wayne?”

“Yes,” the kid said.

“Yes,” Bruce said, his voice a little thin.

Faraday flashed a badge at him. So did Selina, with a wink when Faraday wasn’t watching her. “Agents Faraday and Jordan,” Faraday said, and Bruce could feel the vein in his jaw start to twitch.

“What’s going on?”

“Sit down.” Faraday gestured to a small table, choosing the best of the chairs, Selina following suit. Bruce sat across from them in a small metal folding chair with a wobbly leg.

Faraday leaned forward expectantly. “How long has this lab been working on Project Ice?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You are aware of the project, aren’t you?”

Bruce smoothed his expression, forcing his tense face into his most hapless smile. “Oh, I hardly keep track of every little experiment…”

“I’ll spell it out for you.” Faraday steepled his fingers. “In small words.”

Selina coughed, breaking eye contact for a moment, studying the clipboard in front of her before looking up again. “There’s been a break-in, Mr. Wayne. Sometime last night or early this morning. Several million dollars worth in diamonds were stolen from your laboratory.”

“And N.S.A. is investigating?”

“Some of the diamonds were rogue, Mr. Wayne. Irradiated.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Faraday asked. “We’re talking a serious level of radiation.”

“I can assure you, they were properly stored.”

“ _Were_ is the operative word. However, now all of the diamonds, both the clean ones and the deadly, rogue stones are missing.”

“I don’t know why you’re wasting my time and yours, then. Don’t you need to find—”

“It would be a handy way to get Wayne Enterprises out of debt.”

“What?” Bruce fought to keep his cool.

“We understand there have been… fiscal improprieties.”

“I’m not—” Bruce tamped down his rage, slowed his speech and lowered his voice. “There have been no improprieties at all, but the specifics are between myself and my stockholders—”

“Are you planning to attend the function tonight?”

Bruce scrubbed a hand across his face. “What?” he said again, really tired of asking Faraday anything.

“We understand there was to be a party for your science department.”

“It’s a fund-raiser. Wayne Enterprise’s Science in Schools program.”

Faraday waved a hand. “Whatever. We don’t want you to cancel it.”

“You think the party is connected?”

“We want to watch your people.”

Bruce drummed his fingers on the table. “You think one of them is involved in this?”

“We think it’s an inside job, yes.”

Bruce stood, not liking the way Faraday gave him the up and down. “I think it would almost have to be. I’d like to see the crime scene.”

“You?” Faraday laughed, a short surprised bark. “I don’t think so.”

Bruce smothered the urge to clock the guy. He _really_ didn’t like the man’s tone.

“Dobbs?” Selina jerked her head toward the agent guarding the door. “Escort Mr. Wayne back,” she said, standing. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Wayne.” She reached out to shake his hand.

“Agent… Jordan,” Bruce said, returning the gesture. Selina pressed something small and square into his hand. It felt like a matchbook. He palmed it.

 

***

 

**My Alibi Lounge: 1900 hours**

Matches Malone stretched out his arm so he could tap on the bar to the music, letting the cuff of his jacket ride up enough to eyeball his Rolex. Just past his shoulder the air moved, making the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He looked up to see a blonde in a little black dress.

“Nice watch. You get it when it fell off the back of a truck?”

Matches let his lips curl around the match in the corner of his mouth. “Funny lady. I like that.”

“Have we met?”

“I don’t think so, babe. That, I’d remember.”

“Don’t call me babe.” The slit on her dress rode up a little as she took the barstool next to him, twisting slightly to scan the room. Her green eyes were heavily made up, dark-rimmed with black eyeliner, and he could count every single eyelash.

“Looking for somebody?”

Some idiot on the other side of her leaned over, leering at her cleavage and the skin showing on her leg. “I been looking for you all my life, lady.”

Matches leaned across her to tap his shoulder. “Beat it, buster.”

The guy jumped in his seat. “Hey, I didn’t know she was with you.”

Selina’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Malone’s arm, invading her personal space so he could squeeze the guy’s shoulder. “Neither did I.”

The mook shrugged Malone’s hand away, “Keep your big paws off me.” But he left the stool and slunk over to a booth.

“You always like this?” Selina said, as he pulled back from reaching across her, his arm almost but not quite brushing against her. “Watch the hands.”

Matches pushed his glasses down on his nose so she could see his eyes and winked at her. “Oh, _babe_. I’m watching.” Bruce hailed the bartender, lifting his almost empty glass at the guy, then shot his index finger at Selina.

She eyeballed the traces of amber in his highball glass, glittering in the ice. “Scotch and soda.”

“Make it the good stuff. None of that Dewars,” Bruce called to the bartender, then turned back to Selina and the rest was just for her benefit. “Got a classy lady in the joint.” A smile ghosted over his lips. “Didn’t catch your name, beautiful.”

“Didn’t throw it.”

Matches smile widened. “But you seem kind of familiar.”

“We met in Vegas a few years ago, Malone. Elva Barr.”

“Your hair’s different. That’s why it took me a minute—Blackjack, was it?”

“Craps table.”

He grinned around the match in the corner of his mouth. “You blew on my dice.”

“Bring you any luck?”

“Best night of my life, babe.”

“Uh huh.” Smiling, Selina reached into her little purse and pulled out a small silver case that clicked when she opened it. Got a light? She placed the slim cigarette between her lips. “Do not,” she said, “light it with that thing between your teeth.”

He shifted the matchstick to the other side of his mouth, nodding toward the elegant little lighter that had slid out of her purse with her cigarette case. “Doesn’t work?”

“Afraid not.” She picked the thing up and showed him, trying to strike the flint twice, it sparking each time for a split second before dying again.

Her hand was soft and cool where their fingers touched. “Just got to know how to treat it.” He winked as he flicked it, a small blue flame licking up. She gently squeezed his wrist to hold his hand steady, letting her thumb and index finger rest there a fraction too long, stroking the bones of his wrist once, intimately.

“Nice work, Malone. But don’t you have a pack of matches from someplace or other? I think we’re supposed to use those.”

“Might as well.” He fished the matchbook out of his jacket pocket and slowly, deliberately, tore a match from the pack. “We’ve made enough of a scene,” he said, taking in the packed bar, with its edgy crowd, all eyes on the two of them. “Hard to know how much is for a beautiful woman and how much is something… else.” Closing the cover, he struck the thing.

Matches Malone had to grin as Selina pulled away, inhaled. She just watched him, obviously pleased with whatever she saw on his face.

He knocked back half of his highball. “For a beautiful lady, you got a filthy habit, babe.”

“Says the guy chewing on a soggy matchstick.” She exhaled a stream of smoke and just past it, he saw a man stand, getting up from a booth where he’d gathered with five other men, all of them restlessly watching.

The guy came closer, seemingly intent on ordering a drink. He never got that far, though, nodding to Selina as he slid onto the stool next to her. He eyeballed Matches, his small dark eyes intent and dangerous before turning all of his attention back to Selina, who made a falsely helpless little shrug of her shoulders when the man said something to her, low and mumbled. Matches couldn’t make it out but Selina laughed—just once, and leaned closer to the man, whispering a response before tilting her head back to Matches. “This is Mr. Gant, Malone. He wants to talk to us. Privately.”

Matches eyes narrowed and he stuck out his chin. “Sure, babe.” He cleared his throat and stared back at the guy, pushing off his stool. He scanned the room and decided the place was too crowded—the alley’d be better. They headed that way, the man following slightly behind them. He took Selina’s arm, and when Matches spoke again, his voice was a low rumble, only for Selina’s ears. “Something big’s going down tonight. You know it, right?”

“I’m the one who gave you the matchbook.”

“Word on the street is it could get ugly. No place for a lady.”

That made her smile. “You’re not the only one with an ear to the streets. And I do know how to take care of myself, Malone.”

“Bet you do, babe.”

Behind them, there was a scrape of shoe on concrete, and then a grunt as Gant doubled over, tripped by something Bruce didn’t see. The guy fell forward against a table, cursing, then swept the glasses off the thing, sending them crashing to the floor. Almost simultaneously, the bar was plunged into darkness.

A pistol cracked, light blue and scarlet, and the bullet whistled by Bruce’s head. He ducked, shoving Selina down too, and not a moment too soon. Another shot, and if they’d still been standing there, one of them would have been in the line of fire.

There was a stampede toward the door, bodies stumbling past them in the darkness, and as he tried to stand, somebody whacked a beer bottle against his temple. He shook it off but lost his hold on Selina.

“Lights! Lights!” somebody yelled. There was a hissing pop and the sound registered quickly—gas pellet. Bruce covered his mouth with his hand and twisted away from the source of the blast, where a half-dozen dark shapes—bodies—were toppling over, unconscious. Knockout gas.

“Selina,” he hissed, but didn’t hear an answer. The dark shadowy figure of a man beside him hauled back, then made contact, fist to his chin in a vicious uppercut. Bruce staggered, then lunged forward, but another blow landed in his stomach. He reeled, almost fell, but came up swinging. His leg was screaming at him, but ignored the pain. Outside he heard the wailing shriek of Gotham’s finest, and then another shot. The wild bullet flaked some of the ceiling down to fall on the mass of bodies fighting to get outside. From the rear of the bar came a sudden, brief flash of light and he saw Selina, being dragged toward the exit.

Bruce dove forward and some of the thugs went down before the force of his body. He climbed over them, pushing and struggling and swinging his fists. Finally there was a rectangle of light from the alley a few feet ahead and he made his way toward it, toward where he’d last seen Selina. Someone grabbed his legs from behind, tackled him. He fell to his knees, rolling with a kick. Something stopped his foot, but nothing stopped him. The guy fell with a pained grunt. Bruce reached for the doorsill, anchored his hand, and pulled up. He’d made it. He climbed up and literally fell into the night, fresh air bringing a brief moment of elation, only to then feel the thudding, head-splitting pain of a blackjack, hitting the back of his head. Bruce fell, and the world went dark around him.

 

***

 

**Location Unknown: Approximately 2000 hours**

Bruce—Matches Malone—stopped struggling in his bonds for a minute to watch Selina blink, taking in the tiny, dusty room, testing the way her hands were cuffed behind her back. “You’re up.”

“Yeah.” She frowned at him.

“The glasses?”

She tilted her head. “A little askew.”

He tried to straighten the earpiece with his shoulder, but it didn’t really help. “’Bout time you came around. You okay?”

“Head’s still spinning, but yeah. Knockout gas?”

“Think so.”

She nodded toward the closed door. “Where are we?”

“Don’t know, but we’re not staying long enough to get comfy.” Wood creaked as he snapped the back rail of his chair. “Emptied my pockets and they got my lockpick.” He grunted a little with exertion. “Digging out a nail now. Another couple of minutes and I’ll be—”

In the hallway, footsteps sounded, and the doorknob rattled as the door opened. Gant dwarfed the doorframe. “So you two ready to explain yourselves?” He had a pronounced Eastern European accent and spoke like he’d learned English from mafia movies. “We don’t appreciate the way you’re trying to screw us over.”

“Hey, hey, bud.” Matches used his most placating tone. Nobody’s screwing anybody over.”

“That what you call it when you don’t deliver? We heard you made a deal with somebody else, and after we played nice with the front money, you up and run out on us.”

“Not so fast,” Selina said, shrugging at Bruce with a ‘let’s play along and see where it gets us’ raise of her eyebrows. “How do we even know you’re on the level?”

“Yeah,” Matches said. “Must have gotten your wires crossed, bub.”

“You think you can kid me?” The man pulled out a switchblade and held it up to Matches’ jaw. “You got a lot of nerve.”

Selina’s eyes went wide, but Bruce just kept his focused on hers and steeled himself.

The man hit a switch and the blade snicked out of it, landing a hair’s breadth from his throat. “Pretty tough, buddy. Only a blink,” the guy said, grinning at Matches. “But what if…” He retracted the blade and stepped over to stand in front of Selina, holding the knife close to her throat. “What if I mess up this pretty kisser?”

This time, Matches did flinch as the blade flicked out. So did she, as its tip scratched against her throat.

“Ow,” Selina said, rolling her eyes.

“Sadist!” Bruce dug his fingernails harder into the wood. He bit his cheek when a sliver sliced under his thumbnail but breathed a small sigh of relief when he got the thing free.

Selina kept the guy busy. “Get blood on this dress and you’re going to owe me a new one.”

“Oh, just getting started, honey.” The creep licked a drop of blood from the knife blade, before turning his grin on Bruce. “Hate to see your lady here get carved up any more than—”

From the other side of the door there was a shout, then a shot. The thug spun around to cover the door, even as it splintered, a bullet coming straight through it to knock the gun out of his hand, sending it skittering across the floor. The guy dove for it, gasping, hitting Bruce as he fell, tipping the chair he was cuffed to and sending them both sprawling with a hard thump. Bruce landed on his bad leg with a groan, one hand still cuffed to the chair.

“You okay?” Selina said. Then “King!” as Faraday burst into the room, falling on the thug on the floor and yanking the guy up, hauling him up by his lapels. His fist pulled back and the room was filled with the sound of bone on bone as he landed a punch square in the guy's jaw before letting him drop to the ground, Gant landing in a heap next to Bruce.

Faraday turned, grinning until he saw the blood. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine but nice shooting, Tex! You could’ve shot any of us!”

Faraday patted his gun as he put it away. “Relax, sister. I used my new scope. It’s like seeing through walls.” He swiped away the blood on her throat with his thumb, then grabbed a handkerchief and dabbed at it. “Just a small cut,” he said, patting her cheek. “Glad I got here in time.”

Bruce pulled at the chair under him, wood groaning as he broke the last slat and freed his hands. The sound caught Faraday’s attention and he took the opportunity to grab the unconscious thug again, dangling him in the air by one hand. “No way to treat a lady, punk.” His right hand formed a fist and the guy’s head snapped as he landed a hell of a punch. “That’s for hurting her.”

Faraday dropped the guy—half on and half off Bruce, standing over the crumpled man for a minute, giving Bruce a once-over as Matches pushed the guy off and sat upright. Faraday jerked his chin at Bruce before charging toward Selina. “They thought this poor slob here was me. Who is he, anyway?” Faraday didn’t wait for an answer. “You should keep better company, Kyle. Like the hair, by the way.”

Selina rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

Bruce adjusted his glasses and stood. The nail he’d used to pick his cuffs glinted in his fist but Faraday was faster. “Be still, Selina.” Faraday crouched behind her. “I’ll have you right out. Can’t believe you fell for a Mickey.”

Selina shook her head. “It wasn’t—”

“Girl I knew in Shang-Hai wouldn’t have fallen for that.” He pulled out a small tool, flicking the end and the room was filled with the smell of smoldering metal as a laser cut her free. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I had to punch my way through a truckload of goons to get to you and I want to make it out before they call in the reinforcements.” Chain broken, the cuffs dangled uselessly from her wrists as he pulled her from the chair. “You’re on your own, buddy,” Faraday said over his shoulder to Matches. “Can you walk?” Faraday asked Selina, offering his arm.

“I’m fine.” She reached up to push her hair out of her face and the length of chain on her wrist clanked.

Faraday raised an eyebrow at her. “We’ll get the rest of that off you later.”

“It’s okay,” said Selina, pulling at the hem of her dress. “I’ve got a lock pick sewn in here.”

“Don’t spoil my fun, Selina,” Faraday said, winking.

Bruce did not like the leer on the man’s face.

 

***

 

 

**The DuMont Estate: 2320 hrs**

The Dumont’s ballroom glittered, dancers moving across the floor to the sounds of the small orchestra. Drumming his fingers on the table, Bruce nodded at the vacuous debutant telling him about her trip abroad, then watched the couples on the dance floor. Faraday had lightened his hair and added a too-ridiculous eye patch since he’d last seen him, and Selina had ditched her blonde wig for her a red one, loose and curling at her shoulders.

Bruce pretended to talk to Charlotte Radcliffe, nodding his head and smiling blandly, but his eyes were locked on Selina’s. She saw him staring and winked. Caught, Bruce didn’t respond with more than a quirk of his mouth before turning his attention back to his date’s ramblings. From the corner of his eye, however, Selina and Faraday moved in tandem, graceful and easy. Bruce didn’t like it.

 

***

 

 

**The DuMont Estate: 11:55 p.m.**

Faraday led Selina closer toward Dr. Marshall and the doctor’s striking blonde wife, and in moments they’d switched. Selina had a new dance partner, smiling even as he stepped on her toes. They made small talk, she crowded him a little too close, and she knew she’d started meeting objectives when she caught him gazing down her gown’s décolletage and he blushed before meeting her eyes again.

Smiling demurely, Irena Dubrovna, because that’s who she was right now, wife of Peter Dubrovna, currently dancing with Mrs. Marshall, steered the scientist toward the door to the balcony before she pretended to trip. Marshall caught her, of course, and she breathed out a little extra hard against his chest. “So sorry, Dr. Marshall,” she said, letting her best Russian accent roll a little on her tongue.

“Call me Morgan.”

“Morgan, I think I need a breath of air.” Selina looked around, wide-eyed, and the doctor’s gaze followed hers to the balcony, opened up to let in the cool night breeze.

“This way, my dear?” he said, and she nodded, taking his arm. In five minutes she’d gotten what she needed and was standing alone—among small scattered groups of partygoers up and down the balcony, but alone. She looked out over the night skyline, watching the blinking lights of Gotham’s skyline.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Bruce’s voice was smooth and low, and she smiled as she turned.

“Mr. Wayne, is it?”

“It is. Have we met?”

“Irena Dubrovna.” She held out a hand and he took it, squeezing gently for a moment as he drew closer to lean next to her at the railing.

“Must have been… where?”

“Monaco, maybe? We danced. You’re not dancing tonight.”

“Skiing mishap.” He sipped his champagne, eyes sparkling at her over the rim. “How did you get rid of your mark?”

“He’s getting me some aspirin.” She gestured toward her temple. “Terrible headache.”

Bruce snagged a glass of champagne for her from a passing tray. “You’ll need something to wash the aspirin down.” He looked toward the interior of the mansion, toward the dance floor and groups of guests, the lights and music. “Shall we buy you a few minutes before his return?”

“Sure, sailor.”

“You’ve gotten what you need, then?”

“I have. They—”

“It’s the Marshalls,” Bruce said. “But I guess you already figured that out. Or was it, him?” Bruce jerked a thumb toward the ballroom. “Nick Fury?”

She laughed.

“That eye patch is ridiculous. Man doesn’t know the first thing about going undercover.”

“Says the guy who wears a fake tan and a soggy matchstick.”

“ _My_ disguise is character-driven. He’s a walking cliché.”

“You wear sunglasses in a bar.”

“Again, Selina. Eye patch?”

She shrugged.

“I can’t believe it fooled Marshall.” He frowned at her. “Although I guess Marshall was more focused on you.”

“That was certainly part of the plan.”

They drifted past small groups of guests, farther away from the main door to choose the darkest, most abandoned corner of the balcony, and both leaned out over the railing. “Can’t feel good that’s it’s one of your employees.”

“It doesn’t, but at least that means we can find the diamonds.”

“Hopefully, they’re—” she stopped abruptly, catching movement out of the corner of her eye—Faraday and Marshall, down at the far end of the balcony. “Kiss me,” she said to Bruce, and he smiled, sliding a hand around her waist to place it, fingers spread wide over black silk and then the bare flesh of her back—his hand was cool and she shivered, feeling her heart rate speed. His other hand took her hip and he pulled her into a dip that was not unlike the dip Faraday had tried on the dance floor, only more graceful. His body was pressed to hers and there was something poking her in the stomach. She smothered a laugh. “I know that’s not a gun so are you just happy to see—”

“Always,” he said in her ear, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Just for you.”

“Really, Bruce? Such a romantic.” She reached to tease him, quickly, before Faraday and Marshall got there, but he stopped her hand.

“It’s something to keep you safe.” His breath was warm on her earlobe as he whispered, and then she felt him placing something into her hand. “Hide it in the folds of your gown. It’s a radiation detector.”

“I have one.”

“Use mine. Those diamonds are deadly.” His mouth grazed the line of her jaw. “And your spectators appear to be only a few steps away.”

They locked eyes. “Make it good, Bruce,” she said as he found her mouth. She arched up against him and it was like something out of a romantic movie's climax, warm and wet and quite the spectacle.

Faraday’s shocked, “Darling!” came right on cue, and Selina disentangled herself from Bruce’s embrace to flutter her eyelashes at Faraday and the Marshalls, mouths all agape.

Bruce leaned casually back, elbows on the railing, rakish and just a little debauched. Her lipstick was smeared across his mouth.

She smiled at him with her eyes only before turning to Faraday. “So sorry, _darling_ ,” she said to her faux husband, her voice a little breathless. “Mr. Wayne and I are old friends.”

“So I surmised.” Faraday glowered at them both, and she waited to see how willing he was to push the scene to its obvious conclusion, get them out of this.

Wordlessly, Marshall handed her the aspirin he’d found, two of them wrapped in a cocktail napkin. “Thank you,” she said, and he huffed some kind of response, eyes flicking to the lipstick on Bruce’s face.

“Bruce,” she said.

“Hmm?” He raised his eyebrows, dreamy and nonchalant.

“You’ve got a little…” she dabbed at the side of his mouth to wipe off her lipstick and he smiled a little wolfishly at her, just as Charlotte Radcliffe joined their little group.

“Bruce!” The bracelets on the woman’s wrist jangled as her hands fluttered at her sides, clenching and unclenching into little fists, and several partygoers turned to gawk, no doubt wondering if this little scene might with a slap for the playboy, but Charlotte merely fumed, eyes bright.

“Charlotte!” Bruce said, still a smudge of lipstick on his mouth. “So glad you joined us.” He winked at her, pulling her gently toward himself, still leaning casually back on the railing. Charlotte glared at him, opening her mouth to say something but Bruce pressed his finger to her lips. “Hush, Charlotte.” His words slurred slightly around the edges as he looked from her, then pointedly back to Selina before leaning to whisper in the Charlotte’s ear, loud enough that Selina could hear it too. “Wanted to see if you’d _join us_ join us, dear.” He pulled back to look at her with a grin. “Back at my place.”

And that did it for Charlotte. The sound of her palm striking Bruce’s cheek snapped through the night air. “I’m going home with Stewart!” she said, almost knocking Faraday down as she made her angry getaway.

Bruce straightened his posture, smiling apologetically at the people closest to him. Around them, the small groups of people who had been scattered at this end of the building began to disperse a little, clearing their throats. “Shows over, time to move on,” Bruce sing-songed under his breath.

Faraday’s eyes narrowed. “Darling,” he said, the way men talk to errant wives, Selina supposed. “Don’t you think we ought to go home?”

Bruce’s eyebrows went up. “The evening’s only just beginning.”

Selina ignored him, only addressing Faraday. “But of course, _darling_ ,” she said, holding her hand out for Bruce. “Mr. Wayne, it was lovely to see you again.”

“You as well, Irena,” he squeezed her hand in a little handshake and pushed himself off of the balcony railing, body weaving just the slightest bit as he headed indoors.

“I don’t know why I can’t trust you,” Faraday hissed at her, loud enough that Marshall and his wife shifted uncomfortably, obviously not knowing yet how to extricate themselves from the couple’s petty squabble. “Especially with that vacuous dolt.”

Selina shrugged.

“He’s got nothing going for him, darling.”

““I have my reasons.” Selina took a sip of her champagne, watching Bruce’s retreating figure, limned in light as he disappeared into the mansion’s interior.

“Useless. His company’s going under and he’s not got one other thing going for him. Waste of space, that man—”

Selina tilted back her head and laughed. “Shows what you know, darling.” Eyes on the Marshalls, she continued, accented diction perfect. “He’s got a very nice cock.”

Mission accomplished. That was the last straw for the Marshalls.

“Good job, sister,” Faraday said as the couple beat a hasty retreat back to the party. “Felt like that time in Cairo all over again. Ready for the end game?”

Selina slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “Try and stop me.”

 

***

 

 

**Old Sprang Road: 0225 hours**

The Batmobile sped toward Finger Lake, yellow beams slicing through the darkness.

Robin buzzed over Batman’s comlink. “The Marshalls are on the move.”

“Good job, Robin.”

“Want me to follow?”

“Keep a lid on things in Gotham. I’ve got this.” Batman brought the car to a jerking stop in the woods between the lake and the house.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Batman said softly, approaching the vacation cottage on foot. “Swing by their downtown address.”

“Already did. Place is cleaned out—that’s how I got the lead.”

“Gant may not know about the Lake House.” Faraday was keeping watch at the cottage's back door and the light was on at the front, so muffling the sound with his cape, Batman punched his fist through a panel in a French door on the side.

“Keep an eye on their main address. Let me know if anybody shows up looking for the Marshalls. Or the diamonds.”

“Acknowledged. But it’s quiet here now.”

“Quiet here, too,” Batman whispered. “Too quiet.”

 

 

***

 

 

**Finger Lake: 2:35 a.m.**

“See you figured it out too,” Batman said, his voice low and suddenly very close in the dark room.

Catwoman jumped, whirling, her dress whipping at her ankles. “Shh! I’ve almost got it.” She refocused, pressing her ear against the safe, and turned the dial a fraction of an inch The door swung open.

“Be careful.” Batman pointed his detector at the safe’s interior, where two metal boxes were stacked, one atop the other, barely visible in the dim moonlight spilling in the window.

“Boxes are lead,” Selina said. “Won’t help yet. One red, one black box.” She bit her lip, tilting her head for a second. “Going with black first.” She slid the darker box out. “Come to mama.” She shook it and it rattled. “Nice sound. Wave that thing over here now.” The Geiger counter was silent.

“Batman,” Faraday said, stepping into the room. “So you figured it out, too.”

“There’s a tracker in my Geiger counter,” Selina said over her shoulder.

“No there isn’t,” Faraday said.

“Not the one you gave me. The Bat-version.”

“Oh really?” Faraday said, a smug smile curving his lips.

Batman frowned. “I—”

“Don’t you trust Catwoman?” Faraday raised an eyebrow at Batman as he crossed the room to peer out the front window. “Or did you just know we’d find the diamonds so you tagged along?”

“I _am_ a detective,” Batman huffed. “It was quite simple after dismissing your hubris.”

“What?” Faraday scowled at him, one eyebrow raised.

“They weren’t after you at the bar. They were supposed to meet Dr. and Mrs. Marshall.”

“I told him about the bar,” Selina said quickly.

Faraday nodded. “Too bad Selina wore that wig and lit that cigarette.”

Selina grinned. “Yeah, too bad.”

“And ended up with a schmuck who looked a little like Marshall. Bad suit, though.” Faraday shrugged. “Where’d you get the inside info?”

“I don’t tell everything I know.” She looked from one man to the other. “To either one of you.”

“We have to talk later,” Batman hissed.

“Says the guy who planted a tracer on me.”

Bruce drew himself up ramrod straight. “Let’s focus on our work now, Catwoman. Besides, I found the place when I did a property search.”

“Property’s under an assumed name,” Catwoman said, finally closing the box of diamonds. “I did my homework, too.”

“Knock it off, you two. Somebody’s coming,” Faraday let the curtain drop and stepped away from the window. He gestured with his gun. “Grab both boxes. Let’s get out the back way.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” a voice said from behind them. It was Dr. Marshall, holding a pistol. His wife was there too, also armed and aimed, gun pointed straight at Catwoman.

Batman’s gaze flicked from the gun to Catwoman, and she knew he was gauging how far he’d have to throw himself to land in the line of fire.

Faraday cocked his Beretta. “Guess we got ourselves a Mexican standoff here.”

The scientist’s eyes were cold. “Put those diamonds in the safe.”

“Who’s coming in from the front?” Selina cocked her head toward the door and everyone turned to look, coiled and ready to spring, jumping as a gun went off, but it was outside the room, blowing out the front doorknob. Then the door flew open and Gant, along with a handful f other thugs, poured inside the small, dark room, obscuring the front door, and fanning out to block the only other escape, the window.

Selina counted five thugs, and Gant, making six. To her rear, the Marshalls blocked the other exit.

Batman reached into his utility belt and the next thing she knew, smoke billowed up, filling the room.

A few feet away, Catwoman heard the sound of flesh meeting bone, then grunts and groans as Faraday and Batman took down the goons who’d come in the front. From behind, she heard the click of a pistol and dodged as the shot ricocheted off the wall safe, dangerously close. “Okay, okay!” she yelled, holding the box of diamonds high. “Got the rogue rocks here,” she lied. At her left, Batman appeared, whirling to throw himself between the Marshalls and herself. Another shot and he twisted, grabbing her waist to shove her to the side as the bullet whizzed through the air, ripping through her skirt but missing her leg.

Now she was angry. Catwoman pivoted, grabbing her sidearm, whip arcing through the air toward the place where the shots had originated, clearing the air long enough for her to see where to aim. Then she lobbed the metal box of diamonds. They nailed her target in the temple, diamonds glittering as they spilled on impact, raining down through gray smoke, skittering on the floor as they fell around the crumpling man.

Next to her, somebody—Gant she thought, went down with a roundhouse from Batman as Faraday took down two more perps in quick succession with a one-two jab uppercut. Selina unfurled her whip again. Slicing through the final remains of the smoke-filled cloud, it cracked out to land on the box Mrs. Marshall had grabbed, smacking it to the ground, just as Batman’s batarang wrapped around the woman’s ankles, knocking her down to land beside it. It was a satisfying thud.

 

***

 

**Finger Lake: 3:10 a.m.**

“Well,” Catwoman said on the back stairs to the Marshall’s cottage, keys to the scientist’s Ferrari in hand. “Authorities on their way. My cue to leave.”

“Usually is,” Batman said, voice low, halfway watching the back door like any minute one of the trussed, de-armed criminals could uncuff themselves and come out shooting.

“Thanks for a job well done, Kyle,” Faraday said. “I’m staying in town tonight, if you’ve got some time to kill later.”

“I know. At the Ritz.”

“We could talk about old times.”

“And new ones. Pretty good score here: crisis averted, dirty stones retrieved. Nation’s secure, Wayne Tech saved from scandal—”

Batman’s eyes flicked to hers.

“It’s going to be a little bit of a scandal,” Faraday said. “One of Wayne’s scientists was involved.”

Catwoman shrugged. “I’ll bet he can get through that. He’s dealt with tougher stuff.”

“Don’t know what you see in that guy.” Faraday said.

“I’ve got my reasons.”

“I’ll show you a reason,” Faraday grinned as he pulled her to him, and she went, embracing him back, just for a moment. “We work good together, Kyle.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “But right now I’ve got stones to fence.”

Faraday opened her car door. “You earned your twenty percent, sister.”

“Didn’t steal it.”

“For once,” Batman said, but they both ignored him.

“Fence ‘em quick and come have breakfast with me.” He leaned into the car. “I could thank you in person. Come by my hotel later if you want to.”

She smiled. “Maybe I will.”

“Sure, Kyle. Good work.

 

***

 

**Friday, Wayne Manor: 1500 hours**

“Enjoy your weekend, Dick,” Bruce said into the phone. “Tell Lori hello. Yes, I’ll be fine. I’m propping it up right now. No, the last twenty-four hours didn’t help, but I’m going to keep it up all weekend. Yes. You, too.” He hung up just as Alfred ducked his head into the study.

“You have a visitor, sir.”

“Who—” Bruce started, but the words fell away when he saw who it was.

“I took the liberty of bringing her on in.”

“So I see.” Bruce sat up straighter behind his desk, starting to pull his leg off of the extra chair where he’d propped it.

“No, don’t,” Selina said. “Finally taking care of yourself a little. It’s about time.”

“Thought I’d take advantage of the opportunity…” he let his words trail off, gesturing vaguely toward his leg. “After I got back from beefing up security at Wayne Tech.”

“After a lot of procrastination,” Alfred said. “And now that you have company to keep you in line, I’m going to do some shopping. I’ll be back by dinner.” He let the door close behind him.

Selina pushed a stack of papers to one side and perched on the edge of Bruce’s desk. “So…”

“So yourself.” Bruce smiled. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Just came to say thanks,” Selina said. “You got me out of a few jams in the last twenty-four hours.”

“You would’ve been fine on your own,” Bruce said, voice a little gruffer than he meant it to sound. “Or with your… partner.”

Selina shrugged. “Thanks for letting me take my commission, too.”

“You earned it. If the federal government wants to pay you—”

“Still not sure whose pocket it came from.”

“Wayne Enterprises can afford it. We’re getting back on our feet.” Bruce leaned back in his chair. “And all too happy to pay for an honest day’s labor.”

“Don’t get too used to it.” Selina crossed her legs, swinging her feet. “Brought you something.”

“Oh really?”

“Uh huh.” She laid the detector on his desk. “One Bat Geiger counter. I can’t believe you bugged me.”

“Tracked you.”

“I know. You’re going to have to stop spying on the people who care about you.”

“Did you go and see Faraday?”

She pointed at the Geiger counter. “Tracking device, Bruce. Shouldn’t you know that?”

“I couldn’t…” he looked away from her eyes. “I was worried about your health, your safety. Radiation. I wouldn’t spy on your private affairs.”

Selina stood, tilting her head, watching him, until he finally made eye contact again. “I didn’t carry it everywhere with me, anyway.”

“Come here.” Bruce pulled her into his lap.

“Aren’t you worried about your leg?”

“My leg’s fine.”

“Wouldn’t it be more comfortable in bed?”

“Would you?” Bruce narrowed his eyes. “I _am_ supposed to keep it up.”

“Now you’re talking, Bruce.” Selina leaned in to kiss him, lips soft and warm against his mouth. “Let’s go upstairs.”  



End file.
